Dang Slang

They call us 'rents'. Less kind than kin. Their words obscured in part Though their tongues Are hinged and unpinned. As if they could think, But not fully speak, Their minds formed-- Simple, Mono-syllabic their words, Concatenated words, Puffing and cheeky words. As if, tongues are burdensome, Spared the effort spent. Lips to move--hard pressed, Breathing steady, no duress, But a second syllable? It is seldom expressed. A decade back Would we have, yea did, Spew our poly-syllabic words Coin of our age Page upon blessed page Until, by-and-by, We had to stop, pause, breathe. Ah-h-h-h. And there is the rub! We made those words last, If last they could, If last they would Longer than we, ourselves. And where is that language now? The Next Generation speaks! Soon Americans will be 'Cans' Or is that word already Rendered, Or rent? Eh? Oh, not the 'rents like we Nor rent once paid as fee, But rent as rent As rended, twisted, spent; Torn in twain, Until all that is left of the word Is an honorable mention A guttural intervention, A single syllable Meaningless Incoherent. Coinage for a lazy tongue.